Rosie, Sharon and Room go to a funeral. They don’t know each other. In fact nobody really knows anybody else. We all know the dead man but only a little. We all hold a little piece of his jigsaw life. And it was a jigsaw.  

For most of his 65 year life, this man chose to live on the streets. He didn’t drink, he didn’t take drugs, he liked to eat well and he would teach anybody who would care to stop about the dangers of processed foods. And he had the type of mental health which could, only occasionally, make him a little aggressive and angry. He died of a massive heart attack whilst dancing, a thing he loved to do. But, for the most part, his heart was whole, and kind, and filled with concerns for others. The community came out one by one to say goodbye. There would be somewhere between 60-100 people who took time one Saturday morning to see that he didn’t leave this world without being celebrated. His mourners were unlike any I’ve ever seen at a funeral. A real cross section of raggle-taggle-gypsies we were. Some suited, some in leathers, everybody with a dash of something extra to the bones of them. Some old enough to need a walker, young enough to be in a pram, talented enough to play violin music especially composed to celebrate his love of dancing. And the music choices represented him so beautifully, Sammy Davis Junior and The Travelling Wilburys giving us both poignancy and a laugh.  

We shared laughs, tissues and gathered for just a short time before splintering away again. But we hold our jigsaw pieces and he lives within those pieces.  

He had a colourful life of his own choice. He died well. He had a beautiful funeral. And that is all any of us can hope for. Rest easy James.  

Love

Room

A Moodscope member